


An Admirable Affair

by Defira



Series: Throw Your Arms Around Me (Or At Least Throw A Punch) [7]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:19:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>[Set during For Your Eyes Only]</b>
</p><p>Elise Shepard risked a lot when Admiral Hackett asked a personal favour of her- and she ended up in custody as a result of it, a wanted criminal accused of genocide. She's got half the galaxy calling for her head, and the other half thinking she's mad for her tales about the reapers- and Hackett isn't saying a damn thing in her defence. A Spectre has her limits, after all, and Steven Hackett crossed them months ago. </p><p>Of course, she considers herself a forgiving woman, and when the Admiral invites her to dinner to make amends, she's not so foolish as to turn such an offer down.</p><p>Even when the offer turns out to be much more tempting than she initially realised...</p><p>(With apologies to asariboyfriend for borrowing Danny)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She’d been expecting some sort of invitation for the better part of a day now; James, delightful gossip that he was, had informed her that Admiral Hackett had taken leave specifically to add his voice in support of hers. A gesture far overdue, as far as Elise Shepard was concerned- the silence of one of the highest ranking military men in the Alliance was incredibly damning, and the warmth and respect she’d long held for him had waned daily. 

Granted, she wasn’t expecting him to take responsibility for the incident with Kenson, and the subsequent destruction of the Bahak system- that was solely on her head, and she would wear that with dogged determination- but his refusal to speak publicly on the matter hurt deeply. He’d come to her not quite as a superior and not quite as a friend, and she’d taken his earnest plea to heart. She hadn’t betrayed his trust in the months since Bahak had been destroyed, but his apparent disinterest in her plight...

That hurt. More than she wanted it to, admittedly, and as each day passed with no word from him, she grew a little more vexed and a little more petty as she imagined their eventual reunion. 

Steven Hackett might have been a powerful man- but she was a powerful woman. And she didn’t appreciate being hung out to dry. 

“You sure the Admiral didn’t send the invite to the wrong cell block?” Elise said cynically, lying barefoot on the couch in her room. Her crossword book was lying flat on her chest, forgotten for the moment in the face of the news Vega had greeted her with. “Maybe he meant to send it to someone slightly more valuable to the Alliance- like one of the janitors, maybe?”

Vega, bless his stalwart little heart, didn’t flinch in the face of her vitriol. “The janitors were busy, lola,” he said, completely straight faced. “Didn’t want to leave the Admiral without a dinner partner, so I thought I’d see if you were interested.”

She groaned and hid her face behind the crossword book. She hadn’t had a good couple of days, and she wasn’t really in the mood to be sociable. The latest round of talks with the batarians had gone badly, no thanks to Terra Firma and their assholish meddling, and she was lonely and cranky and horny. She missed her friends, and she missed Zaeed a hell of a lot more than she wanted to admit. The old merc probably hadn’t even noticed she was gone, in all fairness; it was only because she was cooped up in a glorified prison cell that she was even obsessing about him this much in the first place. 

And on top of being miserable and desperate for fun and affection, now she had to play nice with Hackett. A man she wouldn’t have minded playing _very_ nice with a few years ago but the last few months had severely curtailed her interest in the Admiral. 

“When am I expected?” she muttered from under the book; she didn’t feel like putting up with the smug smile that was sure to be on Vega’s face. 

“Twenty hundred, ma’am. Admiral Hackett has an apartment on base, so I’ll be around to collect you at nineteen fifty.”

“Fantastic. Brilliant. Looking forward to it.”

She could hear the smile in his voice, smug git. “Careful there, lola, don’t want the Admiral thinking you’re too keen.”

“I hate you.”

He laughed and she waited until she heard the door close again before peeking out from behind the book. She was blessedly alone; Vega had actually left her to her own devices this time, unlike the handful of times that she’d been conned by his ability to move so silently. A man his size shouldn’t have been so light on his feet. 

The crossword book suddenly wasn’t as enthralling as it had been previously- not that she’d been all that faithful to it anyway. She had a habit of starting a new puzzle every time one of the questions frustrated her, so the book was full of half finished crossword grids, with scribbles in the margins and incorrect words written over in pen so thick it tore the paper a few times. 

Really she should have just used a pencil, but she never was sensible that way. 

She tried to distract herself with it for another half hour or so, but eventually it was pointless. She was too preoccupied thinking about Hackett and what precisely she wanted to say to him when she confronted him and what exactly she was going to wear-

She sat up, swinging her feet over the edge of the couch. Now that was something she hadn’t considered previously.

Padding across the small apartment on bare feet, she pulled open the cupboard and rolled her eyes as she riffled through the handful of garments. “Oh gosh, Elise, what are you going to wear? Oh gee, I don’t know, I could wear that dress uniform, or that dress uniform, or that dress uniform... oh but I wore that dress uniform to the hearing yesterday, and heaven forbid I be seen in the same outfit twice.”

Muttering further obscenities under her breath, she tugged free the first outfit on the tiny rack, tossing it on the bed as she stomped past on her way to the bathroom. 

The one sided conversations continued.

“It’s not like _I’ve_ got anything to apologise for,” she said as she rinsed the shampoo from her hair, swearing under her breath when it got in her eyes. “Except for, you know, bollocksing up an extraction and starting a war with an alien race.”

“Yeah but that wasn’t really my fault,” she muttered as she tried to tame the wet mop on her head with the hair dryer, amusing herself by styling her hair into bizarre mohawks until it collapsed as it dried. “Because in the end I saved everybody from a Reaper invasion.”

The wet towel was left on the floor of the bathroom as she got changed. “Plus, Hackett obviously has something to hide about Kenson. Old girlfriend or something, I’m betting.” She considered underwear, and discarded the idea just as quickly. “And I copped it for cleaning up the dirty laundry.”

She checked to make sure her seams were straight on her skirt. “And now I’m humanity’s embarrassment, acknowledged terrorist and mass murderer and resident nut job, raving about monsters in the dark corners of the universe. ‘ _Oh, don’t listen to that Elise Shepard, being dead finally pushed her off the deep end. She came back with a few loose wires_ ’.”

Her makeup collection was sparse, but at least they’d let her have something to wear when she went to the disciplinary hearings. “I look _nice_ , damn it,” she muttered, clicking the lid back onto her bronzed lipstick and pouting briefly at the mirror. “And I’m in the right. I did the stupid fucking mission and I saved the world and I came back to face the music. I look good and I’m right- so Hackett can just suck on old eggs.”

“Commander? Did you say something?”

Light on his feet indeed; how long had he been waiting out in the main room, listening to her bicker with herself? She swallowed down the lump of embarrassment sitting in her throat, ignoring the way her stomach lurched about. “Nothing at all, James,” she called back, stopping to quickly dab perfume behind her ears. 

“You sure? Because it sounded like you said-”

“ _Nothing at all_ ,” she repeated fiercely, stepping out into the main room. At James’ appreciative once over, she snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Eyes up, Lieutenant. My face is up here.”

“And the rest of you’s down there,” he said cheerfully, winking at her. “You sure got dressed up all fancy for someone you ain’t looking forward to seeing, lola.”

“I dressed _professionally_ ,” she said pointedly. Crossing her arms, she frowned at him until the smirk died on his face. “Shouldn’t we leave before we run unprofessionally late?”

Hackett had an apartment on the other side of the base- understandable, really, that they wouldn’t have the private residences anywhere near the brig. And it was nice to have a chance to breathe in the night air, to feel the cool breeze on her skin, fluttering at the hem of her skirt. She wasn’t jealous at all that everyone else got to walk about freely and enjoy this sort of evening without a guard. Not at all. 

They walked in silence, she a step or two behind Vega, and she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. She tried to tell herself that she wasn’t nervous, she was simply angry; anyone would be upset at the treatment she’d endured in the past few months, especially from someone she’d once desperately respected and admired. 

It hurt that she didn’t know what to expect this evening. She’d once looked to Admiral Hackett as a man she could relate to- they’d both come through the ranks, enlisted folk rising to positions of power on their own merit. She’d always respected him, and she’d always assumed she’d had his respect in turn. And now she was twisting herself up in knots, alternating between irate and anxious, all because she didn’t know whether she’d be facing a friend or a foe tonight. 

James, bless him, didn’t push for conversation, and left her to her own thoughts. They crossed into another building and climbed to the second floor, and when he stopped and knocked on one of the doors, Elise found herself hanging back a few steps, reluctance warring with irritation at her nerves. 

She wasn’t a fumbling recruit, for fuck’s sake. There was no reason why she couldn’t have a civil conversation with a man who was basically her political equal. 

The door opened, and she readied herself. She could act like an adult, and she wouldn’t start any petty little squabbling matches. 

The man who opened the door was not the man she was expecting; oh, it was Hackett all right, but it wasn’t _Admiral_ Hackett that greeted her and James with a smile and a nod, pulling the door open wide for them to enter.

The man who opened the door wasn’t a man she had any experience with- a simple cotton tee, the navy blue colour the only nod to the Alliance, and a tea towel draped over one shoulder. No uniform, no symbols of rank, just... Steven Hackett. 

He smiled in greeting, and the lurch in her stomach felt a lot like desire. 

“Good evening Commander, Lieutenant.” He held the door open wide and beckoned them inside. “Won’t you come in?”

James saluted sharply, standing to attention; Elise only just resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and offered a somewhat lacklustre salute of her own. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Hackett said, the corner of his mouth twitching as he took in her body language. She had a fierce desire to poke her tongue at him, and see whether it earned her a reprimand or a laugh. Standing in his presence was frustrating and confusing- she wanted to be unequivocally angry at him, annoyed by his lacklustre response to the disaster with Kenson, but in person her feelings were significantly more... complicated. 

“Sir,” James said, snapping his heels together smartly. “Will that be all, sir?”

“Dismissed, Lieutenant. I’ll see that the Commander makes it safely back to her quarters.”

James saluted again and marched from the apartment, leaving Elise and Hackett alone. The thud of the door closing had a sort of finality to it. Not feeling particularly charitable, she didn’t speak immediately, instead looking pointedly around the room. She could feel his gaze on her, and it made her feel a little more flustered than she’d like to admit. 

“Well,” she said finally, gesturing grandly, “I suppose I should thank you for the fact that I’m only under indefinite house arrest instead of dead.”

He didn’t wince, precisely, but his chin dipped slightly; a nod of acceptance at the accusation, perhaps. “Shepard,” he said as way of greeting, his tone apologetic. “You’re looking well.”

“I have nothing else to do but eat and laze about, growing fat. I suppose the change of pace agrees with me.”

He nodded, his gaze flicking over her briefly. She was somewhat surprised to see the hint of approval in his eyes, and even more surprised at the flush of heat she felt in response. 

“Perhaps it does at that,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “I trust you’ve been made comfortable?”

“Reluctantly so,” she said. “But at least I’ve things to keep me busy.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Oh, you know- crosswords, gossip magazines, a little physical exercise, running worst case scenario simulations for when the Reapers invade...” 

Hackett sighed, his expression rueful. “Shepard...” he began, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

“It’s fine, that was a low blow.” She crossed her arms, blowing at the corner of her fringe. “I’m just ridiculously frustrated and going a little stir crazy cooped up on base.”

_And lonely, and pissed off, and horny, and-_

“I can imagine,” he said, cutting off her internal tirade. “Can I take your jacket at all?”

The courtesy took her slightly by surprise. “Oh, I... yes?” He stepped towards her, and her heart leapt into her throat when he stepped in close behind her; she shucked the jacket as quickly as she could, handing it off to him with a thin smile. To be honest, she had felt a little self conscious standing there in a formal uniform while he wore slacks and a t-shirt. At least a blouse and a skirt were slightly more subdued. 

She could smell something tantalising in the air, a hint of spices, something familiar enough that she felt herself begin to relax slowly. Hackett took her coat with a smile and ushered her through to a small dining room, the table laid out so carefully that she blinked in surprise. Polished silverware and a chilled bottle of- she squinted at the label- Riesling were certainly not what she’d been expecting when she’d accepted the invitation.

“I felt I owed you an apology,” he said, pulling the chair out for her. She hesitated briefly, the urge to be childish rather hard to resist, before she decided she had nothing to achieve from being a brat and grudgingly accepted the seat. His fingers brushed against her shoulder as he helped her to pull the seat forward, and she felt a small sizzle of awareness at the touch.

Intriguing, that.


	2. Chapter 2

“That’s rather an understatement,” she said candidly, settling back in the chair to watch as he uncorked the wine. For a brief moment, in the half second before the cork popped, his arms strained just enough for her to appreciate the fact that he had not gone soft during his years as an officer. The muscles bared to her gaze were a delightful distraction. 

The cork came free with an amusingly loud pop, and he set to pouring them both a generous amount. “Admittedly I was probably a little shocked to hear of the direction the mission ended up taking,” he said carefully, “but that was no excuse for my extended silence on the matter.”

She picked up her glass and sniffed carefully at the wine. “That’s it? You’re not even going to question me on what happened? No concerns about Kenson?”

“I read your debriefing, Shepard, and I know you well enough to know that you did the right thing.” He smiled ruefully. “Even if the right thing did leave me flabbergasted for a few weeks.”

“That tends to be the standard reaction to me, these days,” she said wryly. 

He finished pouring his own glass and held his hands up in what looked like surrender. “I think the safest choice here is no comment,” he said, offering her a sly wink. “And a tactical retreat to the kitchen to check on dinner would not at all be unmanly or cowardly.”

“You _cooked?_ ” she asked, her face cracking into a smile despite her best efforts. “You- Admiral Hackett, commanding officer of the Alliance military forces- know how to _cook?_ ”

“If you sound any more shocked, Commander, I might start to take offense. Cooking happens to be a particular pleasure of mine.” 

“I’m just curious as to where you find the time,” she called over her shoulder; she could hear the clatter of plates in what she assumed was the kitchen. “If you’re not busy enough out on Arcturus I’m sure I could cause more interstellar incidents to give you more paperwork and more migraines.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, you keep me plenty busy.” The smells were making her mouth water, and there was something nagging at her, something rather distinct about the combination of spices in the air. She couldn’t place it though, and she didn’t really feel that bothered by it; it smelled good, and there was wine, and so far it hadn’t been nearly as awkward and tense as she’d expected it to be. 

“I keep you up at night with my misdemeanours, do I?” she called teasingly. 

“You don’t know the half of it, Commander.” He appeared in the doorway, balancing three plates expertly. 

The smells hit her in a wave of nostalgia; the niggling hint of familiarity was suddenly recognition, painfully so, and her stomach fell down somewhere around her shoes.

She felt the blood drain from her face; if she hadn’t already been seated, she probably would have drooped back into the seat anyway. “What is that?” she asked, horrified to hear her voice wobble slightly. 

If he noticed her lapse in composure, he didn’t let on. “Dinner,” he said simply, setting one of the plates in front of her and another in the centre of the table. 

Elise swallowed past the lump in her throat, dismayed at the wave of emotions bubbling up from within her. “You didn’t strike me as the type to dabble in Nepalese cuisine,” she managed, biting her lip to stop it from trembling. 

Gods, the main plate was dal bhat tarkari, and the familiar spices in the air were making her mouth water and her heart ache. She hadn’t had dal bhat since... well, probably not since before she’d died. 

But it was the platter in the centre of the table that had her eyes burning with the threat of tears.

“I dabble in a lot of things,” he said, somewhat cryptically. “Whatever takes my fancy.”

She didn’t know if she felt dismayed or overawed or ridiculously flattered.

“It was the first food you asked for after you were awarded the rank of N7,” he said as an explanation, settling down in the chair opposite her. There was a smile on his face that was _doing things_ to her stomach. 

She laughed, somewhat hysterically, her hand going up to cover her mouth. She could feel the tears pricking at her eyes, threatening to fall. “You remember my N7 ceremony?” she asked incredulously. 

“Well, it’s not every day that we award the rank, is it?” His smile widened. “You looked a wreck, fresh from the field and looking like a strong breeze would snap you in half, but you had the biggest grin on your face all the way through the speeches. And then the moment the formalities were over and you were howling and cheering with your friends, you very distinctly said that you were going to eat a bucket of momos until you were sick from it.”

Oh gods, he was _right_ ; she could remember it like it was yesterday. She’d only flown in the night before, and she’d hardly slept for the three days prior to it. She remembered gritting her teeth and grinning like a loon all the way through the ceremony, a heartbeat away from keeling over backwards and falling asleep there on the dais, or breaking down into manic tears, alternating between laughing like a hyena and sobbing like a baby. She’d been exhausted, utterly wrecked in every way, and she’d been running on nothing but fumes during that ceremony.

And then when her friends from ICT crowded around her to congratulate her, whooping and cheering and half of them on no better sleep than she was, all she’d wanted was a big plate of momos just like her bajyai used to make when she was a girl. It was a stupid and desperate wish, and she hadn’t been able to get any on Arcturus Station, but she’d found a little place a week later on Shanxi that had filled that little hole in her heart. 

“So you just decided you’d make them for me,” she said, her voice cracking.

“Granted, I had no idea what they were at the time, but given how important they seemed to be to you, I knew I had to find out.” He picked up the platter and held it out to her. “Plus, it seemed like an appropriate apology- I always find food to be excellent at building bridges.”

“You made me momo,” she whispered, horrified when the tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

“Chicken momo with tomato achar and sepen,” he said, indicating the two shallow bowls of sauce. The grin faltered on his face when he looked back and took in her expression. “Elise, are you crying?”

“No,” she said quickly, then laughed once, miserably. “Okay, yes.”

“Jesus, Elise, what-” He was on his feet in a heartbeat, kneeling before her a moment later. He had a napkin in his hand and he pressed it into hers. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh gods, don’t ask me to explain it,” she said, hiccuping as she tried to stop herself from outright sobbing. “It’s just stupid.”

“I’m sure anything that upsets you this badly isn’t stupid. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known it would upset you,” he said earnestly, enclosing her hands in his. “I wanted to surprise you, not make you cry.”

“No no, sir-”

“You can call me Steven, Elise, it’s fine.”

“Okay, uh, Steven- it’s okay.” She pulled a hand free quickly to dash away the tears on her cheeks. She took a deep breath and let it out shakily. “I just... wasn’t expecting a gesture like that. My bajyai- sorry, grandmother- used to make them for me when I was growing up. I haven’t really... no one has made them for me since I left Mindoir.”

It was an awkward way to word it- _leaving Mindoir_. But how else was she supposed to say it? Since my family was slaughtered ruthlessly by aliens? Since my home was burned to the ground and all my innocence with it? Since everyone I ever cared about was either gunned down for sport or carted away to serve cruel masters on far flung worlds? She’d had too much pity over the years, too many times when she’d been forced to relive the memories for the sake of others, people who wanted to express their sympathy but who inevitably left her feeling worse for having poked at old wounds. 

“Elise?” His hands were still wrapped gently around hers, and his thumb was rubbing soothingly against the back of her fingers. “Do you want me to order something else to be delivered? Pizza, or pasta, or something that won’t-”

“No, no, it’s fine.” She swallowed down the worst of the tears, trying to rein herself in. “It was just unexpected and... I guess it hit a lot harder than it should have. I’m ridiculously flattered that you thought so highly of me in the first place to go to all the trouble.”

“It was no trouble.” His smile was genuine and gentle when she tentatively made eye contact again. “Do you want to use the bathroom? The food will be fine for five minutes if you wanted to wash up.”

She smiled weakly in response. “That would be appreciated,” she said, letting him pull her to her feet. 

He showed her to the bathroom, and she made sure the door was firmly locked behind her before she groaned and rubbed her hands over her face.

“Great impression you left there, Elise,” she said, leaning heavily on the edge of the vanity. Allowing herself to sulk for a few moments, she eventually sighed and pushed herself up, inspecting the damage in the mirror. 

Her mascara had run a little, but it mostly looked salvageable. She looked around, feeling a little self conscious going through Hackett’s toiletries; it seemed immensely personal to have his cologne and his toothbrush and his shaving kit all just _there_ on the bench, little insights into the man rather than the admiral. Unable to help herself, she picked up the cologne bottle and sniffed tentatively at the fragrance.

It was rich, a musky, spicy sort of scent; she’d caught hints of it before, most recently when he’d stepped in close to her to take her jacket. It sent a delicious thrill through her, and unable to help herself, she dabbed her finger at the top of atomizer. There was a hint of oil there, and she rubbed it onto the wrist of her other arm. 

“And in other news, Elise Shepard is an idiot,” she muttered, setting the bottle back on the counter where she’d found it. 

She fumbled through the drawers for a cloth for her face, hoping to the gods that she wouldn’t find a drawer full of oversized dildos. Most of the time it wouldn’t have bothered her, but she’d already thoroughly made a fool of herself tonight, and she wouldn’t be able to make eye contact with him for the remainder of the evening if she did. 

Thankfully, if Steven had a collection of oversized dildos, he was intelligent enough not to leave them lying in plain sight in the bathroom; she found herself a washcloth and went about trying to make herself look respectable again. 

“Pull yourself together, soldier,” she muttered, frowning and wiping uselessly at a water stain on her blouse. “Unless you want to kill the Reapers from laughter when they realise you can be defeated by a plate of dumplings.”

Sighing, she set the cloth back on the vanity and stepped back, fiddling with her clothes until she knew she was just wasting time. Taking a deep breath, she gritted her teeth and slipped back into the main room. 

Hackett jumped back to his feet when she left the bathroom, holding her seat out for her again. “Elise,” he began, his hand resting on her shoulder, “I apologise sincerely for overstepping-”

She laughed awkwardly, cutting him off. “Steven, there’s no need to apologise. You weren’t to know, and this is a really genuinely lovely gesture. Please, I’d rather just put the entire embarrassing debacle behind us.” 

His hand lingered on her shoulder for a moment longer, and a shiver passed over her skin. “Of course,” he said softly, finally taking his hand away and moving around the table. 

She took a generous mouthful of the wine as he sat down- probably more than was sensible, really, but she’d already made a fool of herself this evening, and she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a nice dinner like this. Probably that one night on Illium when Zaeed had all but dragged her off the ship, which had started off with noble intentions but had ended with sex in a bathroom stall in some nightclub, the name of which she couldn’t even remember now. 

She felt a flush of heat at the memory, the way his hands had slid beneath her skirt, callused fingers gentle on her skin despite the frenzy that consumed them both. She crossed her legs beneath the table and cleared her throat, blaming the wine for the blood she could feel heating her cheeks. 

“Well then,” she said, folding her hands together on the table, “have you ever attempted Nepalese cuisine before?”

“Can’t say that I have,” he said with a smile. “A lot of similarities with Indian cuisine, as far as I can tell, and I’ve had plenty of practice with that.”

“Oh, have you now?” she said, reaching for a momo; she ignored the way her stomach quivered and lurched as she dipped the dumpling into the sepen. “I’d be interested in seeing that some time.”

She bit into the dumpling, and her eyes closed at the rush of flavours. It wasn’t the same as her bajyai's momos, not by a long shot, but the taste and the texture were familiar enough that for a moment it was like being home on Mindoir, and standing in the kitchen trying to steal one before bajyai hit her knuckles with a spoon. She was sixteen years out of time, but she could have sworn that if she’d opened her eyes then she would have seen the faded red beaded fabric hanging over the kitchen window and the late afternoon sun lighting up the dust motes above the sink, and the incense sticks burning underneath her baaje’s picture of Shiva...

And it didn’t even taste the same- the spice mix wasn’t what she was used to, and bajyai preferred goat to chicken, but dear gods, if it wasn’t the most sincere gift anyone had ever given her. 

She opened her eyes to find him watching her intently, and if her heart hadn’t already been in her throat it would have lurched there in an instant thanks to the look on his face. 

She finished chewing and swallowed it down, attempting a smile. “Not bad for a first attempt,” she said teasingly, “but you’ll definitely need practice. I suppose I can volunteer to be a test subject, if it comes to that...”

He relaxed a little, his smile widening. “Oh, you do, do you?” 

“Well, nobody would really object at this point if it got out that you’d accidentally poisoned me with dumplings,” she said, plucking up another one and rolling it around in the achar. “I can see the headlines now- _Celebrated admiral frees humanity from the tyranny of mad Spectre: Alliance declares Dumpling Day in remembrance_.”

She took a bite of the momo and realised a moment later that she’d scooped up too much of the relish; she went to catch it, but part of it splattered on the table, and the rest of it dribbled down her chin.

She went bright red at the same moment that he barked out a laugh. “Oh gods, if this isn’t the most disastrous evening I’ve had in some time,” she groaned, reaching for the napkin. “Sometimes I wonder who thought it was a good idea making me a Spectre.”

Still laughing, he covered her hand with his. “Allow me,” he said, taking the napkin from her and reaching forward.


	3. Chapter 3

She froze as he dragged his chair closer to her and put his free hand under her chin, dabbing at her skin gently with the other. His mouth was still curved into a smile, and this close to him she found it impossible not to stare at him. His eyes were almost ridiculously blue- she’d never paid enough attention before to notice on the handful of times she’d spoken to him in person, and it wasn’t the sort of thing visible over a comms call. 

The scar on his cheek twisted and stretched whenever he talked and smiled, and sitting this close to him, she could see the way it sliced cleanly through his upper lip as well. She felt another rush of heat between her thighs as she found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him there, to suck his lip between her teeth and run her tongue over the scar, to hear him hiss in a breath and dig his fingers into her hips while she toyed with him. 

She realised a half second later that he’d stopped his ministrations, but he hadn’t moved his other hand from her jaw. He was staring at her, and from the expression on his face, something of her inner lechery must have drifted to the surface, and he’d guessed at her train of thought.

The moment stretched out between them, and she could see the heat and indecision in his eyes; she felt it in herself, the hesitation warring with desire, the urge to just lean across the space and press her mouth to his, her fingers curling into his hair as his danced over her neck and crept up the curve of her thigh. 

For a heartbeat, she thought he meant to do it too. 

Then the moment passed and he sat back, clearing his throat and setting the napkin back on the table. “We’d best enjoy our dinner before it turns to cold sludge, shouldn’t we?”

Well this was awkward. She’d never had a problem gauging the interest of a prospective partner before; hell, she’d punched Zaeed and threatened to shoot him in the face just hours before they’d had sex for the first time. He’d been about as difficult to read as a picture book. 

Hackett though... she didn’t know quite what to make of him and his gentlemanly overtures. There was heat there, simmering just below the surface, and he seemed to delight in taking every opportunity possible to touch her, but then he never followed through and pressed his advantage.

Was she misreading his attentions, or was he hesitating for some other reason? Was it the fear of fraternisation charges, the desire to avoid entangling himself with a war criminal? Was it as she’d assumed earlier, and Kenson was an old flame, and there was awkwardness around the fact that she’d killed her?

Gods, where was Zaeed when she needed him? Never before had she appreciated the simplicity of their relationship more than she did just then. 

But she didn’t say any of it aloud, of course; instead she smiled and agreed and settled in to enjoy the food that reminded her of home. 

The evening passed by in pleasant conversation and laughter; she felt the wine begin to work its magic, the delightful buzz in her blood leaving her a little light-headed and a little more adventurous. They talked about her childhood in the colonies, and his in Buenos Aires, sharing stories of childish mischief and misadventure. Her father had abandoned them at around the same age that his mother had died, and they commiserated one another for their years as parentless children. 

There were stories of the First Contact War, and her tales of the N7 program. They finished the first bottle of wine, and Hackett opened a second. Her laughter gave way to giggles, and more often than not she had trouble reining them in, which made him laugh just as hard as her. 

By the time the second bottle was close to empty, they’d mellowed significantly, and the night was wearing on. She was relaxed enough to tempt fate, and settled on a question that had been plaguing her for over half a year now.

“Liara told me you found my dog tags,” she said slowly, rolling her wine glass in her hand so that the golden liquid slid about like a sluggish whirlpool. 

He smiled ruefully, staring into his own wine glass. “Doctor T’soni is remarkably well connected for her age,” he said, conveniently sidestepping the question. “You’ve a loyal friend in her, Shepard.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Elise said, “although I am curious as to why you had them in the first place.” 

His gaze met hers for a moment, something dark and hot simmering in his eyes. He didn’t answer immediately, instead draining the last of his wine. His tongue flicked out to lap at the hint of wine staining his lips; Elise shifted in her chair when she felt a corresponding tug of heat coiling in her belly. “I don’t rightly recall,” he said vaguely, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. 

Elise set her glass down on the table. “Well, sir,” she said, “it’s just that, after I came back, you were the one to contact me and say that the Normandy crash site had been located. Which is interesting...” She paused, held his gaze for a tense moment. “Given that you _already had my tags_ by that point.”

He laughed, once, more of an exhalation of breath than a true laugh. “Was it before?” he said, somewhat cryptically. He ran his finger around the rim of the glass, the motion somehow ridiculously arousing. She blamed the wine.

“I find it odd that it took the Alliance two years to find the crash site,” she continued, easing her feet free of her shoes beneath the table. “And yet the location was uncovered within weeks of my reappearance.”

“Perhaps the rumours of your survival spurred a long overdue official investigation,” he countered. 

She couldn’t help but smile, gleeful in her victory. “Interesting, given that Major Antella’s request for an intervention met a very abrupt end at your hands,” she said, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hands on the table. 

His finger froze on the rim of the glass; his nostrils flared, his eyes dark. When he finally looked up at her she shivered at the intensity of his gaze. “You’ve friends in strange places if you were able to uncover that, Shepard,” he said softly. 

She grinned, delighted. “You don’t think I’m capable of it all on my lonesome?” she asked teasingly.

“I think you are capable of far more than most people realise,” he said honestly. 

“And you’ve cleverly distracted this conversation and somehow made it about me.”

“What can I say? It’s a topic I happen to enjoy immensely.”

She felt a rush of pleasure at the confession, smug and fierce. “Is there nothing I could do to tempt the story from you?”

He took a long time to answer, and she fought the urge to squirm under his silent inspection. She could easily blame the wine, but she didn’t want to; she felt hot, and the charged energy between them certainly wasn’t helping. 

Gods help her, but she was thinking about doing terrible things to him right now. 

“The Alliance wouldn’t allow a formal investigation,” he said slowly. He ran a hand over his jaw, and she found herself fascinated by his fingers yet again. “Our resources were already stretched thin after the battle with Sovereign, and the Normandy was the greatest ship in the fleet by leagues. With her gone, we just didn’t have anything we could risk on the edge of geth space for the sake of a bit of wreckage.”

Hearing it laid out so bluntly made something ache in her chest. “But you came and found me,” she said softly. “Why?”

He chuckled, leaning forward. “Aren’t interested in the how, Shepard?”

“I assume it’s a reckless tale of heroism and defying orders and back street dealings with agents of the Shadow Broker,” she said grandly, matching his movement and shifting in her seat until their heads hung close together, like conspirators plotting by candlelight. “Full of moments of wild daring and dramatic encounters with villains.”

“Well, now I don’t want to disenchant such a fine young woman of her opinions of me,” he said with a smile. “Why don’t we just pretend that’s precisely how it happened?”

“It must have been terrifying,” Elise said softly, playing along, “fleeing interstellar criminals and violating the express commands of the Alliance, just for the sake of a woman.” 

“Not just any woman,” he quipped in response. 

She was fairly certain that she moved first, but he moved with her, and their lips crashed together in a mess of desperation and teeth and ragged gasps. He tasted of the wine, and the spices from the food, and gods help her but she felt like she was drowning in the scent of his cologne. 

Her arms went around his neck as she slid from her chair and onto his lap, and she kissed her way along his scar, just as she’d fantasized of doing a few hours earlier. Not to be outdone, he kissed his way down the edge of her jaw, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of her neck. 

She gasped as he slid his hand beneath her skirt and up the back of her thigh. “You take advantage of every Spectre you bring back to your place?” she asked breathlessly, tilting her head back to give him better access.

“Just the pretty ones,” he said, squeezing her thigh until she moaned. His fingers drifted higher, over the curve of her ass, and she felt him smile against her neck. “And the ones who go to dinner without any underwear.”

Her moan turned high pitched as he slipped his hand under her thigh and between her legs. “I find underwear to be overrated anyway,” she managed, sucking in a desperate breath when a kiss was partnered with a teasing dip into her body, just the tip of his finger, just enough to have her writhing on his lap until he chuckled smugly. 

“Elise,” he murmured, his voice decidedly ragged as he pressed kisses to her neck, “just because we’ve been drinking, doesn’t mean you have to-”

“You could have had me hours ago,” she gasped, capturing his mouth with hers. 

She was just drunk enough that she shrieked a little when he scooped her up into his arms and stood, holding her tightly to his chest as he surged from the dining room. He shouldered open a door and hastened into the dark room beyond; she screeched again when he dropped her, and she bounced when she hit the bed. 

A moment later the lights came on, and he was standing over her, his eyes hungry and his chest heaving as he reached for the hem of his shirt.

“Get your damn clothes off,” he growled, shucking the shirt up and over his head in one swift movement.

She scurried backwards on the bed, her chest heaving from excitement as she draped herself over the pillows to admire the view. “That sounds like an order, Admiral,” she said with a smirk, twisting her fingers through the sheets in breathless anticipation.

He paused, and she took the opportunity to enjoy herself at his expense. His body was not as battered as Zaeed’s, but he bore his fair share of scars, a map of the years he had weathered. The hair on his chest was the same delightful silver as the hair on his head, and the little trail that whispered below the band of his- now rather tight- pants made her squirm in place. He cleared his throat, and when she looked back up at him he fixed her with a look that set her blood aflame. “My apologies, Commander,” he said, his voice sending a shiver over her skin, “let me clarify. Get your goddamn clothes off, _now_ , or I’ll rip them off with my teeth.”

“I’d like to see you try,” she said tauntingly. 

He climbed onto the bed and began to crawl towards her. “Are you defying orders, Commander?” he asked in a voice that made her shiver and fist her hands tightly into the sheets. 

She smiled, even though she was ready to tackle him to the bed and ride him until her throat was raw from screaming. “Maybe I am, _sir_ ,” she said.

His smile made a delighted shriek rise up from within her. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said, lunging forward and pressing her down into the pillows. 

His kiss, _oh_ , his kiss- he wasn’t as wild as Zaeed, but he was by no means gentle. There was desperation in the way he kissed her, a fierce hunger in the way he did his best to devour her. His weight was delightful, and she moaned when he wedged his thigh between her legs and ground against her. He didn’t waste any time, propping himself up on one elbow as he reached between them, took hold of her blouse and wrenched it open.

Buttons flew everywhere, and she let out a garbled sort of moan as his fingers traced over her bare skin. “ _Fuck_ , Steven-”

“It was in my way,” he said as if that explained or excused it, his smile positively devilish as he pushed the ruined blouse down her shoulders, tossing it off the side of the bed when she was free of it. 

Her fingers twisted even tighter into the sheets. “If you make a joke about me being out of uniform, I swear-”

“Still making threats, Commander?” He cut off her protests with another kiss, and the sensation of skin to skin as he covered her body with his again nearly drove her out of her mind with need. She let go of the blankets and clung to him, her arms wrapped fiercely around him as her foot slid up the back of his leg. 

Gods, it’d been too long since she’d been properly fucked.

She whimpered in protest when he pulled away, and his chuckle made her want to stamp her feet in frustration. Her whimper trailed off as he kissed down her neck and lower, his mouth meandering over her breasts; when he lingered and teased her through the fabric of her bra, it was all she could do not to sob and grab at his head and press him closer. 

“I’ve always wondered if you tasted as good as you looked,” he murmured, running his tongue slowly over her stomach, his fingers digging into her hips to pin her in place as she squirmed and moaned in frustration. “How delightful to find my expectations pale in comparison to the real thing.”

“Oh my gods, are you trying to kill me?”

“If I was trying to kill you, my dear, I’d probably be a little more creative with my flirtations. And I might try a little something like this.”

He shifted, and his hands slid down to her thighs, pushing her skirt up around her waist and pinning her legs open wide as he dipped his tongue along her sex and slowly swirled it around her clit. 

She sobbed out a breath, her hips bucking upwards, but he kept her firmly pressed against the bed. She heard him laugh as he toyed with her, his tongue dancing over the most sensitive parts of her with almost gleeful strokes. 

“I’ve dreamed of this for years,” he murmured, placing open mouthed kisses against the inside of her thigh. 

“Holy fuck, if you’d said something years ago we could have been _doing this for years_ ,” she rasped, “and then I wouldn’t want to kill you right now for stopping to chat in the middle of-”

“The middle of your thighs?” he asked cheekily. “But perhaps I want to stop and chat and discuss how gorgeous your-”

“Steven, I swear to every god in the cosmos, if you don’t make good on your threats and use your tongue to make me scream, I’m gonna pull rank on you and-”

“There’s no need to resort to threats of violence, my dear,” he said, his voice a little ragged despite his attempts to be smug. “All you had to do was ask.”

Her attempt at a snarky rebuttal faded off to a wordless moan when he closed his lips around her clit.


	4. Chapter 4

He was good, she’d give him that. Admiral Steven Hackett was not a man who did things by halves- not even oral sex. 

He suckled gently, enough to have her writhing desperately, hips bucking upwards; he chuckled, and she felt it, hot breath and soft lips and _oh holy fuck_ his finger playing tauntingly at her entrance, circling and sliding as he made love to her with his mouth.

“ _Steven_ ,” she whimpered, her feet scrabbling at the bed, trying to find purchase on the sheets. “ _Chik, dhacha_ , oh gods...”

He slid his finger into her and she sobbed on a shriek, her hands twisted up in the blankets. “Barely started and you’ve already forgotten English,” he said with a chuckle, the rhythm of his hand rapidly driving her mad. When he added a second finger, her toes curled and the spike of pleasure left her panting desperately. “I have to say, my dear, you’re good for the ego.”

“Why do you have to say _anything?_ ” she rasped, beyond the point where she cared about her pride. If she had to beg, she’d beg. “Aren’t there better things you could be doing? Like me?”

He _tsked_ loudly, but he didn’t break the rhythm. “They say that patience is a virtue, Commander,” he said, running his tongue slowly over her exposed sex until she felt certain she was about to explode out of her skin. 

“I don’t know who they are, and I don’t care.” He took the little nub of flesh back into his mouth before she’d even finished speaking, the final word trailing off on as a high pitched keening noise. “Oh, Steven, _an, an chik, an_ -”

He toyed with her for a moment or two longer, the pleasure coiling tighter and hotter within her; when he stopped again she nearly sobbed in frustration. 

“You’ll have to teach me some Nepalese some time,” he said, kissing his way back up her stomach. He took hold of her skirt and tugged it down, shucking it over her hips and down her legs; it went flying through the air and over the side of the bed, joining her ruined blouse on the floor. “I’d be curious to know what filthy names you’re calling me.”

“Like I’d ever give you that sort of advantage,” she panted, unable to keep still. Frustrated at the distance between them, she hooked her foot around the back of his thigh and tried to pull him down on top of her.

His laughter was aggravating; he managed to keep his balance between her legs, kneeling over her, but he wobbled for a moment as if she was winning. “Impatient little thing, aren’t you?”

“I am going to make you pay for all of the endearing old man bullshit.”

“I certainly hope so,” he said, reaching for the hem of his pants.

Unable to resist the temptation, she sat up and pressed her mouth to his lower stomach, her tongue swirling over his skin. She felt a fierce surge of victory when she heard his ragged intake of breath and pressed her advantage, her hands sliding around his hips and dipping below the waistband of his slacks.

“Something the matter, sir?” she asked innocently, her kisses trailing lower, a smile curling the corners of her mouth up as she felt the bulge of his erection just below her chin. 

“You are a wicked young woman,” he rasped, his hands sliding over her shoulder and through her hair. She wanted to preen and curl into his touch- gods but she loved having someone play with her hair- but she didn’t want to lose the power she’d fought so hard to claim. 

“Just determined,” she countered, her hands running over his ass; she could feel him fumbling with the clasp on her bra and paused her teasing for a moment, holding still to give him a chance to defeat it without her assistance. 

The moment it came free, she took hold of the hem of his slacks and wrenched them downwards. His cock sprang free and she made a taunting sweep with her tongue, laughing as he groaned; she leaned back, untangling herself from the loose bra and tossing it aside. 

“I believe that makes it your move, Admiral,” she said, draping herself back against the pillows once again, smugly delighted with the wild hunger in his eyes as he took in her nakedness. 

“Don’t go thinking you have the tactical advantage here, Commander,” he said, shoving his pants down around his knees and fumbling to kick them off entirely. “You forget, of the two of us, I’m much more experienced at planning a successful attack.”

“Is that what we’re going to believe now, is it?”

“You feel like you can challenge my record?” he asked, settling himself back over her. He kissed a slow line of kisses over her bare chest, chuckling when she shivered. “That might go very badly for you.”

“I’m willing to risk it,” she said.

“Are you now?”

There was always something glorious and maddening about that first moment of contact, bare skin sliding against bare skin, unrestrained and sizzling with awareness. His mouth found hers and they lost themselves, hands teasing and clutching and kisses fervent and wild. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, her gasp mirroring his as their bodies slid intimately against one another. 

But when he reached between them, his hand creeping over her stomach and lower, she pulled back. “What are you doing?” she asked, her body slick with sweat and the taste of him burning at her lips. 

He gave her an odd look. “What do you think I’m doing?” he asked, his hand snaking lower.

“Not without lube, you’re not,” she panted, slapping his hand away. “Just because I’m easy doesn’t mean I’m _that_ easy.”

His laugh was strained. “Trust you to insist on practicalities even in a moment like this,” he said, shuffling awkwardly across the bed, the blankets tangling around his legs and making him fumble as he reached for the bedside cabinet. 

She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of his ass bobbing up and down as he hunted through the drawers. “I didn’t realise there was a full moon tonight,” she teased, laughing even harder when he scowled over his shoulder at her. 

“Not all of us are fortunate enough to be naturally bronzed and exquisite,” he said, turning back to her with a black plastic tube in his hand. 

“I’ll try not to lord it over you then,” she said, moaning when he drizzled the cold oil between her legs, his fingers quickly following as he smoothed it over her sex. “ _Gods_...”

“Is there a reason for your insistence upon lubricant?” he asked, rubbing his hand over his cock as his other hand teased her.

She managed to dredge up a withering look, despite being a half second from dissolving into a mewling mess of pleasure. “What, apart from the fact that it makes the sex better for everyone?”

“You just seemed rather _aggressively_ resolute. Makes me wonder if someone tried to call the shots and pissed you off.”

Elise laughed shakily, arching into his touch. “Massani made that mistake precisely once, and he never did again. I’m going to spare you the indignity of learning what happens to men who think they can overrule me on common bedroom courtesies.”

“Duly noted,” he said, his hand sliding beneath her thigh and lifting her leg as he settled himself over her. He touched his forehead to hers as he pushed forward, filling her slowly and kissing along the edge of her lip as she shuddered and gasped. “I heard you were slumming it with Massani, but I figured it for a rumour.” 

“Maybe I’m slumming it with the boy from the back streets of Buenos Aires while I make real time with the fiercest killer in the galaxy,” she said on a moan, her hips tilting to take him in deeper. “Ever think of it that way?”

He rocked his hips against her, and she scrabbled wildly at him, her feet digging into the back of his thighs and her arms wrapped tight around his shoulder. “Maybe I don’t like you talking about another man while I’m the one making you moan and scream.”

“Oh, you think you’re in charge now, do you?”

“That a challenge?”

It was a little harder to talk after that, because kissing seemed a little more important, and breathing was quite difficult, and dear gods, her head was spinning and her skin was sizzling and everywhere felt like fire and pleasure and her muscles were aching from the exertion already and she knew she was going to have a hangover in the morning, but there was no way she could bring herself to care.

She matched his movements, and they weren’t perfect- they were both quite tipsy, and it was clumsy and desperate and frantic and-

“ _Oh dear gods do that again!_ ”

Her head fell back against the pillows, her hair clinging damply to her neck as she panted and writhed against him; his face was pressed against the top of her shoulder, his teeth marking her, a delicious thrill of pleasure and pain sizzling through her with every nip. 

“ _Steven_ ,” she panted, her movements growing desperate.

If she’d been a little more sober, she probably would have been a little embarrassed about precisely how long she _didn’t_ last. The orgasm caught her by surprise with its intensity, and she left nail marks on his back and she clawed and sobbed at him. She felt him stiffen, his breathing ragged against her ear as he bucked and shuddered and lost himself within her.

And she was kissing him, kissing at his cheek and his chin and anywhere she could reach him; he took a moment to reciprocate, too stunned to respond, but when he did he was just as desperate and frenzied in his affections as her.

The wave of pleasure slowly receded, and her senses slowly came back to her; the kisses slowed as exhaustion took them. She collapsed back against the bed, her head spinning, her limbs completely weightless. There were still little jolts of pleasure zipping through her, little spasms that made her shiver and close her eyes as she fought to get her breath back. Steven was not that far behind her, his strength giving out soon after as he slumped down onto the bed beside her.

They were silent for a time, but for their frantic attempts to learn how to breathe again. Eventually she laughed shakily and pushed her sweat soaked fringe away from her face. 

“Gods, Steven,” she said, “you sure do give one hell of an apology.”

He laughed, and she joined him, and then they were both howling with laughter, curling around one another as they shook from fits of giggles.

“Believe it or not, this was not actually my intention in inviting you around tonight,” he said, still chuckling. “Not that I’m going to complain about the outcome.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” she said, shivering now that her body was winding down. “You said you’d wanted me for years.”

“Can’t a man just pretend to be a gentleman, just once?”

“Not after a performance like that, you can’t. You’re a dirty old man, and now I have proof.” 

They lapsed into silence again, her head resting against his chest and his arm drooped over her hip. With the desperation of the moment slowly dissipating, she could feel the awkwardness begin to bloom, floundering about for something appropriate to say.

“Hey, um... Steven?”

“Mm?” 

“Can I ask a favour?”

“If it’s “ _will you smuggle me back to Arcturus with you_ ”, then unfortunately the answer will have to be no.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” she said, propping herself up on one elbow and pouting at him, “so not even if I promised to wait diligently for you each night and warm your bed for you? Your own little house Spectre?”

There was a tenderness in his smile as he reached up and tucked her hair back behind her ear. “You’re a very beautiful woman, Elise,” he said, his fingers tracing down the curve of her jaw, his thumb brushing over her lips. 

She froze. The affection in his voice was so completely unexpected and so completely sincere and she had no idea how to respond to such a genuine compliment. 

“I... thank you?”

He laughed, and leant forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You don’t flinch when someone asks you to defend an entire planet from invasion, but you panic when someone gives you a compliment?”

She went bright red. “Shut _up_.”

“You get to my age, there’s not really much point in dancing around what you want to say. You _are_ beautiful, and I wanted to let you know.”

“Oh, um...” She floundered about for an appropriate response. “You are very... attractive?”

He laughed again, and she wanted to bury herself under the blankets and refuse to come out. “We can work on that,” he said with a smile. “Alright- presuming it’s not asking me to smuggle you off world to be my concubine, what is this favour?”

“Actually, can we make it two favours?”

He sighed, propping one of his arms behind his head. “Fire away,” he said. “If it’s in my power to help, I’ll do it.”

“I... I need to know that a couple of people are okay,” she said hesitantly, chewing on her lip for a moment before continuing. “Specifically, I need to know about Massani and an engineer named Danny- er, rather, Kidan Flynn.”

He stared up at her, and she continued hastily. “I know that’s probably really not cool, asking about another man when we’ve just had mind blowing sex, but it would mean a lot to me just to know that he... that they were safe and not locked up in an Alliance cell or brainwashed by Cerberus.”

“They’d be safe if they were in an Alliance cell,” he said pointedly.

“Please, Steven?”

He paused for the longest time, and for a moment she thought he meant not to answer her. Finally he sighed, the hand on her hip tracing absent circles over her skin. “We’ve kept tabs on Massani since you turned yourself in,” he said. “We’ve kept track of nearly everyone on the crew, actually, with a few exceptions.”

“Jack?” she asked, grinning at the thought of the tattooed woman.

“Actually no- she’s currently working for the Alliance, training biotic recruits.”

“ _What?_ You’re shitting me.”

“Funny, that’s precisely what she said when we offered her the position.” 

Elise couldn’t reconcile the foul mouthed, angry young woman she’d rescued from prison with what Steven was suggesting- teaching other people? Actually letting her be in charge of other people’s safety?

“Flynn is on Elysium, last I heard,” he continued. “Doing odd jobs for cash. He jumped ship from Cerberus the moment you did.”

“Get him back in the Alliance,” she said instantly. At the look he gave her she held up a hand placatingly. “Okay, okay, I know that’s another favour, but Steven- he’s a good kid. He’s probably one of the best engineers I’ve ever known, and he only joined Cerberus for my sake in the first place anyway. It kills me knowing that he’s living like that because of me.”

“He’s a grown man, Elise,” he said pointedly, “and I’m sure he’s happy living with the consequences of his choices.”

“For me, Steven?” she asked quietly. “Please?”

He stared at her for a long moment, and when he dipped down to kiss her, she turned her face up to meet him and returned the kiss. There was something breathtakingly intimate about it, something soft but desperate, as if he was breathing her in. 

She was panting by the time he let her come up for air. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the tip of her nose. “What else?” 

She hesitated for a moment before saying “I want to send something to Zaeed, to let him know I’m alright.”

He tensed, and she felt panic settle in the pit of her stomach. “That’s a tall order, Elise,” he said quietly.

She punched him softly in the shoulder. “The fact that I happen to care for that asshole quite a lot doesn’t change the fact that I also care about you and really fucking enjoyed what we just did here. In fact I’d be more than happy for a repeat performance.”

“So the fact that you’re asking the Commanding Officer of the Alliance military to make contact with a wanted criminal on behalf of an imprisoned accused terrorist didn’t cross your mind?”

The panic fizzled to a stop, leaving only embarrassment in its place. “Oh.”

“Oh indeed.”

“So you’re not jealous?”

He sighed, and pulled her in closer, his fingers toying with her hair. “Immensely so. I’m curious as to how a man like Massani could possibly have earned your loyalty, but it’s not my place to pry. And I suppose hearing you sob my name a dozen times over instead of his has gone a long way towards placating the worst of it.”

She nuzzled at his jaw. “You don’t really have anything to be jealous about,” she said pointedly. “You’re here, he’s not, and I happen to like both of you just fine.”

“Mm,” he said, the sound sceptical. “So what did you have in mind?”

“I have some files for him- nothing sinister, nothing that gives away humanity’s darkest secrets. I just... want him to know I’m okay.”

Steven didn’t answer her right away. “I’m not making any promises, “ he said finally, “but...”

“But?” she asked hopefully.

“But I’ll do my best.”

She couldn’t stop the desperate cry of delight that bubbled past her lips as she lunged forward and pressed her mouth to his again. “ _Thank you_ ,” she whispered.

She felt him smile, and his hands came up over her hips, settling in the small of her back.

“I believe you said something about a repeat performance?”


End file.
